All's Fair in Love and Football
by luckylucyheartfilia
Summary: "There, there, you blubbering goddamn pansy." — A protective Lovino, his hysterical Spanish boyfriend, a massacre on the soccer field, and a moment of silence for Lars' ridiculously expensive car.
1. Red Luigi Strikers

_i refuse to watch this world cup bc there are so many awful things going on to make it happen but im just really ugh im drowning my frustrations in spamano fanfics_

_this is technically my second aph fic, but i havent posted the first one yet bc it still needs a lot of cutting and editing unu hopefully itll be posted by the end of the month! this one sucks since i wrote it in a rush, bluh bluh bluh_

* * *

**All's Fair in Love and Football**

**Alternate Title: Red Luigi Strikers**

**by luckylucyheartfilia**

* * *

"There, there, you blubbering goddamn pansy."

Lovino's soothing words of comfort fell on deaf ears as Antonio simply wailed louder into his shoulder. The Italian sighed, aggravated by the complete disregard for his designer outfit but unable to bring himself to kick his boyfriend's ass for ruining it.

_These kind of scenes are usually painted as romantic in movies,_ the Italian mused, fidgeting slightly to shift Antonio into a more comfortable position. _The beautiful girl____— man, nation? It doesn't matter______—_ collapses into the stunningly handsome male protagonist's arms, and clutches at him delicately. He pulls them in close and supports them firmly, holding them tight as he whispers sweet nothings into their ears and promises not to let go as they stand alone in the rain. Shit, I'm starting to sound like Alfred. He can watch his stupid chick flicks by himself from now on.

How long had they been standing out here again? Everyone was gone, back to their hotels to mope or to restaurants to celebrate, but Lovino and Antonio hadn't moved since the very end of the game. Lovino managed to reach the pitch just in time for Antonio to spin around and throw himself in his arms, teary-eyed and mortified. It was a completely different Antonio from the last World Cup, where he was the one to catch Lovino and spin him around all excited, sweaty, adrenaline-filled and victorious. That Antonio was hot. This one was not.

Honestly, he kind of wanted to laugh at him at first. Obviously it wasn't going to be as easy as it was four years ago, and Antonio really should have known better. But the defeat by Lars' team was humiliating, and Lovino wasn't perfect either, so he'd let it slid just this once.

_God, you are so lucky I'm in love with you._ Lovino couldn't keep the fondness out of his eyes as he looked down at the head of brown curls nestled into the crook of his neck. His Spanish loser's crying had softened a bit, reduced to quiet sniffles instead. _Idiot. _

Still, it troubled Lovino how badly the loss affected Antonio. Spain had lost many times before, but this one was the hardest of all to take. If the score was 1-2, or 2-3, that would have been okay, but 1-5? Lars was a ruthless bastard.

And so, it was out of love that Lovino Vargas decided to enlist the help of several friends to carve the Spanish flag, coat of arms and all, onto the hood of Lars' precious, ridiculously expensive custom car that he had sent over from Europe.

Revenge is the best medicine, right? Or was that laughter?

* * *

"Lovitje." Emma remained cautious and threaded lightly as knocked on the door of Antonio and Lovino's hotel room, only to be surprised when it swung open easily at her touch. They clearly didn't give two and a half waffles about security. Slowly, she poked her head around the door of the room, bracing herself for the worst. "Do you know who painted Lars' entire car red and yellow? And who carved a Spanish flag onto the hood?" Well, of course it was Lovino, because anyone with eyes could see how protective the Italian was of his boyfriend no matter how much he tried to deny it, but Emma knew better than to accuse him of it directly.

"Dunno." Lovino didn't look away from the TV once, fingers mashing buttons furiously. Whatever sight Emma might have expected to see when entering, it definitely wasn't the one in front of her. Things looked relatively normal, with Antonio sleeping against Lovino's chest, a blanket draped gently over his shoulders while Lovino muttered soft curses underneath his breath. Next to them, Matthew and Alfred were sharing a blanket, although it was a rather lost cause while they were elbowing each other in the side furiously and muttering insults to each other. Francis and Gilbert were passed out on the beds, faces painted red and yellow and snoring loudly. Carlos was the final member of their group with his own blanket, but he looked like he was planning on strangling Alfred with it very soon. The four nations currently awake had their gazes completely devoted to the TV screen in front of them and the game they were playing. "He really shouldn't leave his car in places where people can vandalize it, though."

"You should probably lock the door," Carlos advised, eyes still locked on the screen. He gritted his teeth against the unlit cigar in his mouth when Alfred scored another goal. "He's going to be pissed once he realizes who did it. America, touch that ball again and I swear to Matthew's gods of maple syrup I will rip off your___—_"

"Let him," Lovino almost snarled, making a big show of having Luigi use his Mega Strike to shut up the two nations preparing to start a fist fight. "Bastard deserves it for making Antonio cry."

"Hey, Vins, I'm not gonna tell you what to do or anything, 'specially since I helped..." Alfred shoved Carlos away before taking a long sip of his juice box, making a loud slurping noise that cause Carlos to look at him with loathing. "...but don'tcha think ordering a hit on him is going a little too far?"

"_You ordered a hit on my brother?_" Emma shrieked, slamming the door to draw their attention away from the screen. Amazingly, the slumbering Bad Friends didn't even twitch. The petite Belgian was nearly livid. There were more important things than video games! How could they be talking about this kind of thing so casually?

"Settle down, Emita," the Cuban ordered, turning away from the screen for the first time to look at her along with Alfred and Lovino. "We're nations, we can't die, remember?"

"But that doesn't mean we can't get seriously injured and be forced to stay in a hospital for months!" Something clicked in her head. Why were the others in Lovino and Antonio's hotel room anyway? The one they usually ended up trashing was Alfred and Matthew's. "Are you guys_ helping_ him?" Obviously Francis and Gilbert would do anything to help Antonio and got their life force from chaos, while Carlos and Alfred were always up to messing with other people, but innocent little Matthew? The same Matthew who Lars sent flowers to every year? The same Matthew who came with his brother for moral support? The same Matthew who fawned over polar bears and hugged trees and ate nothing but donuts and maple syrup and lived in an igloo and did whatever it is Canadians do? The same Matthew who was still looking at the screen and scoring goals while the others weren't paying attent___—_ _wwwaaaait_ a second.

"Emma, please don't wake up Antonio. It took forever to get him to shut up and go to sleep." Antonio slept like a rock, but when Lovino dropped the subject he wanted it to stay that way. He glanced back at the screen, only for his jaw to drop in surprise as he whipped his head around to look at it fully. "Not again! Matteo, you piece of___—"_

The brunette in the doorway frowned as she watched three of the boys start wrestling each other, some more with the intent of murder than others while Lovino buried his face in Antonio's hair and tried not to screech angrily. She didn't like what they were planning at all, or how at ease they were about it, but it wasn't like anything she had to say could stop them. Plus, Lars _was_ rather merciless to Antonio...

"...Can I play?" But she wasn't going to let them off the hook that easily. _You're playing with the big girls now._

* * *

"Hey, hey, Luddy, Kiku! Look at this car, they must really be big supporters of Big Brother Antonio! Oh, and look, there's an Italian flag on the back! Isn't that nice?"

"Yes, it is quite a shame Spain-san lost so horrendously against Netherlands-san. But this is rather strange. I believe this car belongs to___—_"

"Do you two feel something odd?"

"What do you mean?"

"It feels like we're being watched."

"Oh, there's a couple of my people on the roofs! I think they're from Lovi's place, though. That's weird, why would they be up there?"

"There is Netherlands-san now, he is coming this way. I did not know he could turn that particular shade of red."

"My brother is a master of that colour, ve! His face looks kinda weird, like he ate something really bitter!"

"...Feliciano, is your brother with Antonio right now?"

"Yep! Why?"

"I think we should leave. Come on, Kiku. Don't make eye contact with the scary Dutch man, Feli."

"Huh?"

_"LOVINO VARGAS, I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN FLAG!"_

Up in the hotel, Lovino curled up closer to Antonio on the floor, eyes shut and listening to the comforting sounds of Emma beating the crap out of their friends in a video game, followed by the distant sound of what might have been gunshots. So maybe he'd have to seek refuge in Canada for a few months, but seeing Antonio smile again would make it all worth it.

Revenge was sweet.

* * *

_nee nee mama move the fuck over you dont mess with nonna roma_

_calm down losers spain still has a chance jeez_

_the alt title is supposed to be like mario strikers. mario. italian. theyre playing soccer. lars strikes back as revenge for 2010s world cup. lovi strikes back as revenge for his boyfriend. please pretend to be amazed (luigi is the best mario bro fight me) (no one ever plays as mario willingly lets be real here)_


	2. Omake

_"Roma's love is pure. Spain you lucky son of a gun. Sequel where Spain feels better and lavishs love on Romano for beating England?" - Dido's Carthage_

_minor implied unrequited usuk and __amecan _because i can

* * *

**All's Fair in Love and Football**

**by luckylucyheartfilia**

**[ Omake ]**

* * *

"Good game."

_I hate you I hate you I hate y-o-u. _Arthur pasted on an incredibly fake grin, holding a hand out for Lovino to shake. The Italian was disgustingly smug as he accepted it, not even flinching when Arthur squeezed with all his strength. _Rot in hell, you festering, foul, putrid wankstain_.

Feliciano was the worst of the two, actually, rubbing it in your face with a stupid, giant grin. And you couldn't get mad at the bloody prat because it was the blasted Northern half of Italy and Ludwig and Kiku were always leering over his shoulders, daring you to insult their precious baby. Stupid doting parent-boyfriend-best-friend-things.

Those factors taken into mind, Lovino seemed like the easier target to extract revenge on. But no, he just _had _to make a big show out of completely destroying Lars' car after the match between Spain and the Netherlands. Overprotective little bugger. Not only did he paint over the entire car (including the inside!), he removed the engine, stuffed a Spanish flag in it, and had it sent across the country and placed in a_ tree _of all things. How he wasn't buried six feet under immediately after the discovery was a complete miracle. And apparently doing all of that just wasn't enough either, because then he turned around and took his anger out on England.

That's what Arthur was trying to convince himself of anyway, but Feliciano was the one to encourage the steamrolling of the opposing team so he could be praised by Ludwig._ Italians are awful._

"Lovinitooooooo!" _Spaniards too_, Arthur thought bitterly, glowering at the brunet who launched himself at the match's victor. Maybe he could have won the game if he wasn't completely sleep deprived after having the misfortune of getting the hotel room directly underneath the lovey-dovey couple's. Italians were loud, but Spaniards who got you-fucked-up-but-I-love-you-anyway-and-I-want-you-to-feel-better sex were even louder. Needless to say Arthur was scarred for life, and nations lived for a very, _very_ long time.

Antonio certainly seemed to be feeling better, babbling happily to his _god-awful, stupid, stupid, stupid _Italian boyfriend. Since the brunet was a little too heavy for Lovino to pick up___—_ _hah!__—_ or maybe it was because Lovino was too weak___—_ _double hah!__— t_he Spaniard had resorted to a tight hug, unlike the spinning ones they usually did with Antonio catching Lovino. They didn't pull away completely; Lovino's hands still rested on Antonio's waist, while the older man had his arms looped around his boyfriend's neck. Had it been any other pair of nations, Arthur might have allowed himself to think that it was a cute sight. Of course, Lovino had to glance over at him as soon as he considered that.

_Haha,_ those ugly amber eyes were saying. _Look who has a hot, happy-go-lucky boyfriend. The answer's not you. Alfred will never love you while he's busy pining after that brother of his. Sucker. _

Arthur wondered if Antonio was still good at bullfighting. He better be for his boyfriend's sake, because the blond was starting to see red.

"Boss is so proud of youuuu!" Seemingly unable to sense the murderous air around him, Antonio started cooing and squishing Lovino's cheeks in his hands and rubbing their noses together. They were so in love with each other Arthur felt like barfing. It was amazing, really, how much PDA Lovino was allowing. On any other day, Antonio would have been headbutted halfway across the country. "My lovely Lovinito has avenged me." Maybe Antonio really was capable of reading the mood once in a blue moon, as he quickly cast a shit-eating grin at Arthur. It was gone the next second as he turned back to Lovino, that wretched dopey, lovesick smile of his returning so fast it was as if it had never left.

"Feli wants to celebrate at some restaurant Francis told him about." Lovino's hand moved to entwine fingers with Antonio. "We should probably catch up to them." Antonio raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

"Nah, we're going to celebrate on our own."

_Bloody hell bloody hell bloody hell_. Arthur had to give them credit; this had to be the fastest he's ever wanted to bury himself a hole to die in. The two were making bedroom eyes at each other as they walked away and the stadium was still packed. Good Lord, those two were daring. Was it too late to transfer rooms, or find a different hotel to stay in? Even sharing a room with the frog sounded more appealing than going back to his own room that night.

Somebody suddenly rammed into his back, nearly knocking him over. The weight was followed by two more bodies, and Arthur felt his knees threatening to buckle beneath him.

"Haha, Artie, you sucked! You got beaten by the_ Italy brothers!_"

"Arthur... that was really embarrassing."

"Angleterre, what the hell was that?"

_Scratch what I said about Italians and Spaniards,_ Arthur moaned as his back finally gave up under the weight of his family. The four nations crashed to the ground, Alfred crowing, Francis chuckling, and Matthew giggling quietly on top of the crushed Briton. _I hate the whole world._

* * *

_glorious_

_latte is weak willed and will write anything you ask her to if you make vague compliments in her general direction _

_spaniards really are daring, i guess. have you ever heard of the torre agbar in barcelona? ive heard people c__all it stuff like aphrodisiac, that _thing, and _"el supositori" (i.e. the suppository) (i.e. something that goes into butts)__. if you look up images of it on google, you can probably see why. if you cant see why, then trust me when i say thats a good thing. its actually really pretty when lit up, if not a little... um... _


	3. Sunrise

_ive got ninety nine problems and half are them are because i decided to finish this fic at 2 am_

_less humour and more mushy soft stuff bc toni my poor baby (im really distraught bc i was actually rooting for spain. at least we'll always have south africa 2010)_

_does it bother anyone that i use human names? i only use them bc nicknames_

_contains a hastily made chile oc _

* * *

**All's Fair in Love and Football**

**by luckylucyheartfilia**

******[ Sunrise ]**

* * *

"Come on, Antonio..."

Lovino clenched his fists, eyes darting back and forth across the pitch anxiously. His brother was giving him nervous glances, gripping the macho potato's arm with a terrifying hidden reservoir of strength, but this was absolutely not the time to get angry about stupid things like that. No matter where the ball ended up, no matter who was desperately trying to score, Lovino's sight always fell back on Antonio, who was doing a terrible job of masking his fears as he paled visibly more and more with each passing second. They'd been going strong for so long, and after their victory at the last World Cup this was the absolute worst way for Spain's team to go out.

"It's over," Matthew muttered softly on Lovino's left, a hand already reaching out to rest on his shoulder to show sympathy. The brunet felt the eyes of dozens of nations trained on him, breaths held as they waited to see what he'd do. Matthew's hand caught air as Lovino stood, roughly striding past Feliciano and Ludwig.

His descent onto the pitch was without much fanfare, each step slow and deliberate as he made his way over to Antonio. Vicente stood awkwardly before their former caretaker, shuffling nervously as he held his hand out to the older nation for him to shake. Antonio was staring at it blankly when Lovino approached, only looking up when Vicente's breath hitched as he unconsciously took a step back from the Italian. Lovino knew that if he looked back to where he left all the other nations, he'd see them literally on the edge of their seats, ready to find out if this was how a new war might break out.

"Go," Lovino said gruffly. The Chilean fled at the same time that Lovino crushed Antonio into a tight hug. There was a resounding chorus of _'aww' _and _'eww' _from behind them, but that was number one on a list of things he couldn't give a flying fuck about as he pressed a soft kiss to Antonio's hair. His boyfriend remained stiff in his arms, not reacting at all to his touch. That was more than enough to set off warning bells in Lovino's head, but he hid his panic well and took Antonio's hand, leading him far away from a title lost too quickly and a stadium full of crushed dreams.

* * *

_'El imperio en el que nunca se pone el sol.' _The empire on which the sun never sets.

It had been many years since the time that title belonged to Spain. The sun had to set eventually, that was simply the way things were. But it lived on in Antonio's smiles, his melodic laugh, the way his face lit up with pure happiness, and how the mere thought of him was enough to fill Lovino with warmth and comfort.

It wasn't always like that, though. Once upon a time, neither could stand to be a room together for too long. Then somewhere along the line, things changed for the better. There was something about Antonio that made people naturally gravitate towards him, and Lovino somehow found himself as one of those people. Antonio brought love and sunshine and companionship into his life, things the Italian had been desperately craving for after so many years of loneliness and bitterness, and Lovino gladly soaked up the attention like a sponge as long as Antonio was willing to keep providing it.

And Antonio was more than willing, with a surprising amount of passion. The traces of an inferiority complex that rivalled Jupiter in size still hung around Lovino after centuries and centuries. Sometimes they'd whisper doubts into his ear to try and break him, but Antonio was always there to fix his scrapes, kiss them better, and chase his insecurities away. For that, Lovino couldn't thank him enough. Antonio was the one to chase the storm clouds away and bring sunlight into Lovino's life. It was about time he returned the favour.

He didn't seem like the same person, muffling his cries of frustration and regret into a pillow. There was an empty shell of the man he loved lying on their bed, cursing and angrily scolding himself in Spanish through his own tears.

"Antonio, stop."

And he did, long enough to look at Lovino. Those bright green eyes that the Italian had come to love so fiercely were unfocused and glazed, yet they still managed to pierce straight through him. It was like Lovino wasn't even there, and the idea was something that scared him more than anything. Even so, he strengthened his resolve and found the courage to sit down next to his distressed boyfriend and wrap him in a hug.

He loved Antonio much more than he feared disappearing.

For a long time the two just stayed there together, Lovino talking about whatever came to mind. He was determined to divert Antonio's focus far away from his defeat, and whenever it seemed like Antonio might turn around again, Lovino was there to distract him with kisses, promise of dates, and talks about their future together. Slowly, Antonio began to look more and more like his normal self. The next time they accidentally stumbled on the topic of the football match, they knew things were going to turn out alright.

"There's always next time," Lovino promised, pressing a kiss to his Spaniard's forehead. Antonio sighed, relaxing in the warmth of Lovino's arms. The sky was starting to brighten outside, a sure sign they had been awake for far too long. Moving his head slightly to watch Antonio shift himself into a more comfortable position, the Italian was struck by a burst of inspiration. His own personal opinion was that it was a stupid idea, but it was pretty obvious already he'd do just about anything to keep Antonio happy.

_I can't believe I'm about to do this._ Pushing all embarrassment and hesitation away, Lovino braced himself for Antonio's reaction, whatever that may be. "F... fu..."

The Spaniard's eyes were far from the glassy, dull greens they were earlier. Now, as Lovino continued to stumble over whatever he was trying to say, his eyes were brightened by curiosity and apparent fascination with the interesting array of crimsons his boyfriend's face was turning.

"...Lovi?"

"Fu... f... fusososososo!"

Antonio had shot up in the middle of the 'cheer-up charm' and was staring at the shorter brunet in disbelief. Stunned silence was all that was heard for a few minutes, but if you asked Lovino he'd say that his heart slamming against his ribcage and his sudden desire to be engulfed by the bed and lost for all eternity were pretty damn loud too.

"Dios mío," Antonio finally managed to croak, voice thick and the faintest hint of tears starting to brim in his eyes again. _Oh, no no no no no._ Was he starting to cry again? Shit, he was, wasn't he? Damnit Lovino, you fucked up, you fucked up, _you fucked up_. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

"You weren't supposed to start cryi___—_" Lovino was stopped mid-panicked sentence by a sun-kissed hand, one that seemed to glow in the light that was slowly floating in through the window.

"No, it's not like that." As dawn broke over the Brazilian skyline, starting off a brand new day filled with possibilities, Antonio's grin was just as beautiful as ever as he wiped away his tears with the back of his free hand. "It's just... Te amo, Lovi. Te amo mucho."

Lovino stared, bewildered. Antonio laughed, clear and loud in the morning light as he leaned forward to kiss the shorter brunet, his smile growing when Lovino responded eagerly.

"Anch'io ti amo," Lovino murmured when they pulled apart and he rested his forehead against Antonio's. "Don't worry me like that ever again."

The Spaniard just chuckled again, changing the subject quickly. "When's your next match?"

"We're facing Costa Rica on..." It was only then did he completely register that they actually stayed up all night. "Tomorrow."

"You'll do great." There wasn't a single shred of doubt in Antonio's voice or eyes. "You're the brightest star out there, mi sol."

Not bothering to hide his stupid grin, Lovino closed the distance between them again.

They were going to be just fine.

* * *

___mmm i hope this doesnt seem like im implying that their lives revolve around each other completely, bc thats dumb. they have other people in their lives than just each other, but their relationship here is sorta like, mutually inspiring each other to live and do their best._

___you know how you have characters you would sell your soul for so they could be happy forever and never ever ever be sad ever again. yeah, guess who mine are. (toni and lovi toni and lovi toni and lovi im going to throw myself into the sun)_

_i cant write anything else for this fanfic i physically cannot i will burst into tears immediately. its over im breakin up w/ it. its not the fic, its me. _

_i was wondering why people were putting this on story alert bc i marked it as complete but you were all expecting this werent you you monsters_


End file.
